


The Plan

by PvtSnail



Category: Motherland: Fort Salem (TV)
Genre: Angst, Depictions of Death, Depression, Eventual Fluff, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Mamacostia, Scylla Ramshorn-centric, ill update the tags as i continue, implied sex, references to wanting to die, sassy scylla strikes again, some of my personal scylla backstory head canons, sorry she's just easier to understand in my head lol, this is honestly very sad but i promise if i write more itll be happy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:35:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27946136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PvtSnail/pseuds/PvtSnail
Summary: When Scylla was about ten years old she and her parents after spending a weekend at the beach, camping out in tents on the sand, letting the lull of waves crashing against the shore just mere feet away from them serve as a lullaby for a young Scylla, she had found this small little trinket.It wasn’t anything too special, but to Scylla it was everything, and something small enough to keep in her pocket that wouldn’t be too heavy for when they had to get up and move again.or.A heavy Spree centered idea of the team up between Military & Spree, all revolving around the burning love and Passion Scylla & Raelle have for each other, because someone out there said they're love has the power to change the world around them, and I'm RUNNING with that idea :)
Relationships: Raelle Collar/Scylla Ramshorn
Comments: 11
Kudos: 59





	1. Welcome Home - We Hate You

**Author's Note:**

> I will say, this is probably the longest piece I've written in just one chapter
> 
> I plan on updating little moments of what I imagine could take place within season two
> 
> This all really revolves around the whole Spree organization because well (We are the Spree) but also they're interesting and I wanna see a team up
> 
> enjoy!
> 
> *Mature because language & death mentions, perhaps future sex references? Just depends :) <3

The smell of the mushrooms from the kitchen had Scylla’s stomach growling, she hadn’t eaten anything proper in days, and what she did eat she would only find herself throwing up from the later on torture that shortly occured after. Except, Scylla couldn't find herself to even think about eating, delving into the warm home cooked meal like a pig, not when the realization of what the woman in front of her was saying. 

“You were supposed to bring me my daughter.” 

How did she not connect it all together? Short blonde hair, blue eyes like the sky? Even the damn southern cession drawl. 

The shock, and fear, grew into something much more dangerous for Scylla. Something she never thought she’d ever have for the woman that took her in so long ago. Now? Now she had nothing but a pure blinding rage. 

This woman. Lied to her, didn’t tell her probably the biggest key piece of information, something that if she had known she would’ve been able to complete her mission because no mother would actually harm their child. 

The past months of torture filled Scylla’s brain, the clench of her jaw enough to threaten her teeth to crack, chest heaving as she licked her lips, ready to speak. The months of her ears bleeding, piercing headaches, heartbreak, illusions, and tears. All that she had endured, the horrid ache in her back turned into fuel.

“You’re Raelle’s mother?” She asked, trying to clarify because Goddess she must’ve been gone far too long in that dungeon, she’d have to clean her ears or something because there was no way in a hell that she didn’t even believe in that this was Raelle’s mother, even if she knew it deep down to be true.

The woman cocked her head, taking in Scylla. She’d seen the brunette at her worst, parents freshly dead and looking for something to turn to, wanting to make a difference, to make change, take her pain and be useful. The same rage she’d expressed at the military, now aimed at her. 

“Last I checked.” Damn that fucking drawl.

“And you didn’t think that would be vital information for me?” Scylla was seething, if she was a tea kettle she’d be screaming out from her ears. Willa looked at her with nonchalance, almost as though Scylla was simply another burden on her long list.

“It was a need to know, and you did not need to know.” 

Scylla narrowed her eyes. The music had shut off, old cession tunes cutting away, the other cell members warily watching. Scylla didn’t question things, she did what she was told, completed her assignments, as sloppy as she could be sometimes, but she had understood that questions weren’t to be asked for the success of the mission. This was not the Scylla they knew. 

“You let her suffer.” Willa flinched, and Scylla took a step forward. 

“If you brought her like you were supposed to then this-”

“She cries every night because of you. She didn’t want to live because of you. If I had known-”

“If you had known and told her she wouldn’t have believed you, and you wouldn’t have earned her trust.” Willa pointedly stated, ignoring the jab of the effects of her actions. She knew what she would put her girl through, knew she would be strong, and maybe even a little stronger because of it. Even if it would be the worst thing she ever did, Willa had made her piece with it a long time ago, long before she had even been pronounced dead.

“Then when I ask if she’ll be okay why couldn’t you just say yes!? You couldn’t guarantee her fucking safety!” Scylla screamed, her fist pounding on the table, her voice channeled higher, her normal mask of indifference and determination, a cautious shield she wore breaking. The non-canon work leaving from her rage had the house shaking, the roots from the grounds trembling outside.

“I don’t have to explain myself to an agent who’s too sloppy. Now you best calm down dear.” Willa’s eyes flicked to an agent in the corner, they walked towards Scylla, towering over her in height, Scylla brushed them off glaring at them, before turning her murderous look back onto Willa.

When she made it to her small room she quickly changed into an old shirt and pair of running shorts, tying up old tennis shoes before grabbing a faded and worn hoodie, with holes at the bottom and a small one in the pocket. 

If there was one thing she’d gotten from her short time in the military, it was a good way to blow off steam. Her first year in basic, a constant reminder of her parents, being surrounded by their murderers had her buzzing with anger the entire time. 

The one thing that could settle her mind was running. And there was plenty of running in basic, she didn’t get to do it much in the Necro War College but they had small days of field training, nothing too major so as not to waste resources on them, but it was a great way for her to get lost in her mind, push herself past the breaking point an collapse into a heap. 

It also made sleeping at night easier. 

When Scylla reached the front door an agent stopped her, lifting a brow and shaking his head no. Scylla bit the inside of her cheek.

“I just spent two months trapped in a chair, now if you want to join me you can, maybe we could start a little spree running club.” She snarked, the man rolled his eyes, stepping aside.

“You have two hours.” 

“Now that’s too bad, I can go for far more than that, but what’s a girl to do.” Scylla winked before exiting the house, feeling the crisp air hit her face was inviting, and she smiled as it filled her lungs. 

Scylla took off, running around the block, letting herself get familiar with all the different routes. It was something she and her mother used to do when she was younger. Every Time they entered a new place they’d make a habit of familiarizing themselves quickly, and as a way to prep themselves in case they needed to run, her mother decided a family run was discreet enough, and well it could be fun. 

Like the time her and her mother raced to see who could find the quickest route to the store, and then back to the house. One time they even ran to the ice cream parlor and her mother, proud of her daughter for breaking her mile time, bought her a single cone, they sat on a bench in the park watching the civilians enjoy their time. She had yearned to be as free as them, playing with a dog, or even just laughing without wondering if it would be what got them questioned or the last one with her family or not.

Scylla had been running the majority of her life, and she’d also been looking over her shoulder for the entirety of it, so she knew when she had a shadow. And right now? Scylla had a runner behind her, just barely out of sight but enough that they’d take the same turns. 

She made her way to a park, finding the swing set abandoned and she sat. Waiting for her shadow to catch up. Sometimes they’d have their father act as a shadow, and Scylla would have to figure out how to get them off her tail while running, making use of the environment around her, but Scylla was tired, and although she could probably go on running for days she was still weak, and still hungry, and that honestly made going for a run worse. 

So instead she smiled as she heard ragged breathing and the crunch of feet on the wood chips as a woman sat down in the swing next to her. They stayed silent for a few minutes and Scylla finally let out a sigh. She would have enough time to reflect on her parents later anyways, now that she wasn’t having a constant headache.

“You always follow defenseless women on their runs?” Scylla asked with a laugh.

“Dammit Ramshorn, that was five miles.” Scylla smiled brightly at Anacostia’s voice, turning her head to look at the woman with a knowing look.

“Actually, I ran seven, you joined me on my third.” 

Scylla’s stomach growled and she touched it lightly, she could go a little longer without food, she’d gone extremes without it in childhood, the occasional granola bar sometimes being the only thing to keep her full, especially that one time they backpacked in the mountains because their car broke down and a patrol was on their tails.

She wasn’t allowed to stop moving then, not even for a quick nap. 

“Come on, there’s a diner around here.” 

“I only have an hour left.” Scylla spoke up, still seated on her swing, rocking back and forth against it, Goddess it just felt good to be able to move.

“Good thing the owner owes me a favor.” Anacostia winked, and because of course seeing Anacostia’s playful side always intrigued Scylla she jumped off, landing on her feet to follow behind the older witch.

When they made it to the diner Scylla instantly realized the power of protection surrounding it. She made a face at Anacostia, the older witch just shaking her head no, and Scylla, recognizing a discreet dodger rune at the front, found herself relaxing to the old music inside. 

They’d be safe here.

Sliding into a booth in the back Anacostia eyed the menu handed to them. Smiling softly at Scylla as the younger witch read the menu, her smile dropping when the girl flinched as a jabbing ache made its way through her spine as she stayed seated. The necro struggled to get comfortable, but sitting down like that for such a long time took its toll on her body.

When the waitress came up Anacostia smiled at the woman before ordering from the menu. Scylla gave Anacostia a suspicious look, even if it was a dodger front they would still need money to keep things in operation, and well Scylla didn’t have any. Anacostia seemed to understand her struggle, whispering just so Scylla could hear. “It’s on me.” 

Scylla widened her eyes before correcting her features and smirking mischeviously at the woman. “Well in that case, could I have the veggie burger, and like please just load up the potatoes, oh and uh also a chocolate milkshake?” The waitress nodded, writing down on her pad before Scylla widened her eyes. “Oh! Uhm also, T-the chain’s are tough.” She spoke, words stuttering, it had been so long since she’d used a dodger code.

The waitress relaxed herself, nodding, “But our will is tougher. You rest up dear.” Scylla smiled at her, finding herself relaxing into the worn and faded red cushions of the seat. Anacostia raised a brow at her, but if Scylla wasn’t supposed to ask just why the older witch had a friend who ran a dodger front  _ and  _ owed her a favor, then Anacostia wouldn’t get any answers from her either. 

The amount of joy on Scylla’s face when she saw the food brought out, a steaming pile of warmth that hit her nose and had her stomach rolling, practically crawling it’s way out to just consume the food itself, was enough to make Anacostia’s eyes red. Yet Scylla didn’t pay the woman any mind, instead she smiled, it only growing brighter as the milkshake was placed in front of her, along with two pills. 

Scylla mumbled a thanks before taking a sip and swallowing the medicine. No longer able to keep herself from holding back she ate like her food was going to be taken away from her, oblivious to the looks of regret and shame, and pity coming from the woman in front of her as the older witch quietly ate her own meal.

The necro was still working on her food when Anacostia finally started to speak, feeling better at knowing the girl had something in her stomach for once that wouldn’t immediately be ripped from her. 

“What?” Scylla spoke with a mouthful of food, Anacostia made a face but shook her head, remembering that this was probably the only full meal Scylla had since her capture.

“I want an alliance with the Spree.” Scylla coughed on her food, a chunk of potato flying out of her mouth as she looked at the woman with wide eyes. 

“You what?” She looked around, dodger instincts rushing back to her,  _ it’s a trap, this was a setup, she’s going to be captured again, they’re going to kill her, run, run, you need to run- _

__ “The Camarilla are building in numbers, and with Witches against Witches we’re only going to be wiped out of existence. Alder won’t see to reason-”

“What did you expect? As long as it’s other witches not dying then she doesn’t give a fu-”

“We need an alliance with the spree and military so we can ensure we stay alive.” Anacostia interrupted her. Scylla sat back thoughtfully, eyeing the woman in front of her. She was serious. She wanted this, but if Alder wasn’t willing, and so much fear, hatred around the military from spree cells it was damn near impossible. 

Scylla sighed. “And you need me because?” 

“You have a connection to a cell that infiltrated the military. We need that kind of guerilla warfare against them.” 

“Even if you got your little alliance, the minute the Camarilla are defeated we’d be killed. Witches would still be enslaved. The spree won’t go through with it unless it resulted in liberation. And if Alder herself isn’t endorsing this-”

Anacostia leaned forward, eyes daring and passioned in a way Scylla hadn’t ever seen before. Goddess she was learning so much about the woman. 

“I have a plan. To get an alliance, and demand liberation.” 

Any other day Scylla would’ve laughed in Anacostia’s face. She’d been fighting this fight for her entire life, and the better part of the last three years. A military alliance? Liberation for witches? She would most likely die before she ever saw that come to fruition. But there was something about the sparkle in Anacostia’s eyes, the conviction, the spark that could be channeled into a flame. 

Scylla took the last sip from her milkshake, feeling the cold rush to her head, and the sound of air slurping through her straw against the tension of the air around them as the sound notified the emptiness of the glass’s contents. 

With a wicked grin Scylla smiled. 

“Tell me.” 

The two witches agreed, and well Scylla had to admit it was risky, a lot could go wrong, and well more than likely she’d end up dead, but it was the first real time in a very long while that she truly believed they might get a step closer to liberation. 

She’d made it back five minutes late to the spreehouse, the guard was the same except, this time instead of his blatant annoyance there was an air of fear and worry , anger underlying his face. Scylla took in a deep breath, walking through the front door where one Willa Collar was awaiting her. 

Looking into those all too familiar sky blue eyes she found herself getting angry again, but something in her told her to not open her mouth, whether it was the also familiar red rimming of the woman’s eyes, and the way she too seemed to rub her nose with the back of her hand, she’d been around a Collar long enough to know when was the best time to speak. 

There was a quiet beat while the women stared the other down, Scylla noticed the lack of people in the living room, her palms grew sweaty, and the way Willa was staring at her? Like a predator ready to rip into its prey. Dodger instincts were climbing up her throat yelling at her to run.

“We received intelligence from one of our infiltrators.” Willa stated, her voice was shaky. Scylla rose her brow, carefully trying to keep her face calm despite the rushing chill going down her spine, something wasn’t right. 

“The Bellweather unit was deployed.” 

_ No.  _

“No she, they should be in War College I made sure of-” Scylla started shaking her head, if Raelle didn’t make it to War College then she was in danger, she could be deployed at any minute and worse. 

“They were deployed to the Tarim Basin, where its reported that Raelle was…” Willa couldn’t finish her sentence, but Scylla wouldn’t believe her until she said it. “If you just did your damn mission, I’d get to hold my little girl again.” 

“No, that’s, that’s not possible.” Scylla whispered.

“She was killed protecting a little boy, and it’s all your fault.” 

When Scylla was about ten years old she and her parents after spending a weekend at the beach, camping out in tents on the sand, letting the lull of waves crashing against the shore just mere feet away from them serve as a lullaby for a young Scylla, she had found this small little trinket. 

It wasn’t anything too special, but to Scylla it was everything, and something small enough to keep in her pocket that wouldn’t be too heavy for when they had to get up and move again. 

The little trinket was a small glass shaped bird, it had more than likely been lost at the beach and covered in sand for some time only until young Scylla, staying away from the water because she had a fear of deep water, was playing in the sand, making terrible sandcastles and pointless trenches that she uncovered it. 

Her eyes shined brightly holding the little object in her hand, and she had squealed, forgetting her fear and ran into the water after her parents. At first they had been scared that perhaps Scylla was running towards them because they were caught, but their hearts had settled down when they saw Scylla only wanted to show them this small trinket. 

Scylla took very good care of it, the little bird had been with her for the better part of six years, and she always would hold it tightly in her hands when she was scared, remembering how just the simple joy of the small bird figurine made her overcome her fears for just a quick moment. 

It was in her pocket that day, when she was hiding in her garage. Crouched underneath the rack of old tools left from other dodger families, something they’d do, store their memories and what they couldn’t carry behind, it helped make the worn down houses look lived in. 

She’d been hiding at the bottom of that little storage rack, staring down the door, protected from view, she took out the little bird figurine, which felt silly for her. Yet holding the object made her feel secure in the quick moments of fear as she watched her parents walk away from her, tears in their eyes that they wouldn’t allow themselves to shed. 

After the first crack of a scourge the tiny bird figurine made of glass broke, her fists clenched too tight against it. 

In that moment? Scylla was the bird figurine, Raelle became her parents, and Willa’s voice was her fists, she couldn’t withstand the amount of force used against her. The military, after stripping  _ everything  _ she had, found a way to take something else from her and she couldn’t do anything about it. 

Instead she was given a full meal, new clothes and a clean shower, while Raelle was dead, abandoned in some desert in a country she barely cared to look at on the map except for lessons during her brief time at War College. 

She didn’t feel when her knees hit against the floor, nor did she feel the painful rip from her throat as a sob tore its way out of her, more painful than anytime she’d ever cried in her life, not when Raelle left her, or when Raelle was forced from her, or when even her parents were killed. 

This was more painful than anything she’d ever been through, and that was part of when her mind realized that there truly was one thing she never lied to Raelle about. 

She loved Raelle. 

Loved her more than anything she has ever loved in her life, loved her in a way that was more than she could ever love her parents, believed in one thing more than anything else, and she lost it. 

So Scylla stayed on the ground, unable to process anything Willa was yelling at her, as she felt her soul crack, her hands reaching to her palm to retrace the shape of an S over and over and over and over again because it was all she could do, the only thing she could think of doing. 

At some point, winded from her screaming Willa found herself catapulted back to reality, no longer lost in her rage and fire, the hellstorm she created sweeping her and Scylla up in its feet. She looked down at the small woman, and something clicked in her.

She remembered seeing a young girl, shaking in torn clothing outside a matrilineal verification centre, eyes skirting around, unable to speak to anyone, refusing to talk to anyone that wore a uniform. 

Until Willa had been called in, known in the platoon for being good with the kids on deployment. She walked towards the girl, dirt smeared over her face, flinching as Willa’s warmth. She recognized the dodger habit, had helped the ones that came through the Cession when she was home whenever possible, each time she saw a little kid, one that might look like Raelle, or even see Raelle herself she was filled with a swirling storm of hate for the military. 

With a quiet voice Willa spoke to the girl, so just she could hear.  _ “Now I ain’t like them dogs, M’ not gonna force ya to do anything, but if ya need a warm place to stay I know a group of people who can help.”  _ The brunette raised her head, puffy blue eyes staring back at hers. 

_ “They killed them.” Was all the girl could say and Willa quirked her head to the side, not quite sure who they were. _

__ _ “Who killed who girl?” With a trembling shake in her voice the Girl finally responded, and to Willa it seemed like it took everything in the girl to not break down once again for who knows how long. _

__ _ “My parents, they killed my parents.”  _

It was like history had repeated itself, and Willa realized with a terribly grim expression that Scylla Ramshorn, a sloppy agent with a mind that was quick on it’s feet and filled to the brim with nonsense from any book she could get her hands on, had truly fallen in love with her daughter. 

A love so strong that she was willing to defy any order thrown at her if she couldn’t guarantee the safety of the woman she loved. 

Willa stared at Scylla the whole thing finally wrapping around her head, memory of finding a smaller Scylla in the same cradled position some three years ago, and her heart broke. 

She got to her knees, opening her arms to squeeze the woman tightly against her, cradling her head and rubbing soothing circles on her back that she wouldn’t have known were the same soothing circles Raelle would use when Scylla woke up from a nightmare. She hummed a tune that Willa couldn’t possibly know was the same little hum Raelle would do lying next to a spent Scylla, hand lazily playing with brown strands of hair, carefully braiding them. 

Everything in that moment reminded Scylla of Raelle, and everything in that moment made Willa realize that they were just two broken women, who cared more than anything about a special girl with a cession twange in her voice, who loved to get muddy and would always sport an injury from a lacrosse game. They both loved a girl who no matter how difficult things were, or how much she couldn’t quite understand, would stop at nothing to make them happy, wouldn’t press where she knew she shouldn’t, had a patience that she normally didn’t have for anyone else outside her small circle. 

Snapping out of her tunnel vision of comfort, maternal instincts always the sucker for kicking in when she found a crying kid, especially one that ought to be her own at this point. Raelle loved furiously, and completely, she threw her entire being into it, Willa knew that, and so it was no wonder that in another life Scylla would’ve been a girl Raelle brought home, with a shiny ring, or a ring of grass, or even some twine, whatever she could do to make sure that girl was hers. 

It was only when she snapped out of her head, envisioning a future of celebrating the wheel of the year with grandkids and a happy Raelle, that she heard the quiet whisper of Scylla’s voice, shaking and trembling with effort to even be used, gasping for breath because Raelle was the air in her lungs and without her close Scylla would struggle to breathe, and now the knowledge that her oxygen was depleted? Gone forever? Why she couldn’t find it in her to take in any other source. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Scylla chanted over and over again, struggling over the choking sounds of her sobs tearing through her, unable to catch quite enough breath, and unable to find it in herself to care that her vision was getting a little dizzy and her fingertips were starting to feel numb.

“We’re gonna be okay, It’s gonna be okay girl, it’ll be okay.” Willa whispered back, stroking Scylla’s hair, holding her close to her chest just like a mother would to their daughter. 

“We’ll make them pay.” Willa spoke with finality, her vision darkening, going red. She’d avenge Raelle, make the military suffer for what they’d done. 

She wouldn’t rest until she had Alder’s centuries old head as a decoration in her home. 


	2. Numb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scylla deals with the fallout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW:// 
> 
> Scylla is dealing with some mad depression, mentions of wanting to die
> 
> Baby is going through it but we have to ride the angst train before we ride the fluff one okay?

Life became slow for Scylla. Like after all things she loved ending, where her world lost its sun and warmth, it seemed everything else still continued on. The cars outside would roll by, kids would laugh, the birds continued to chirp their song every morning, and Scylla’s body forced her to continue breathing, her stupid instincts making her breathe air that wasn’t what she wanted. 

She wanted to know that she was breathing the same air as Raelle. Know that perhaps in some small percentage of a way that her recycled breath could produce an effect that would eventually reach Raelle’s lungs. She wanted her mouth to be pressed so close to Raelle’s lips, strong and delicate, smooth lips, soft, probably the softest thing she’s ever touched, breathe the hot air that expelled from the fixer’s mouth. 

It was terrible, her heart ached every second of every day, she drew the S on her palm at least three times, once in the morning, then again at lunch, and finally before she went to sleep. If she was nervous, or not quite thinking she’d catch herself drawing the symbol. Knowing it wasn’t going anywhere was the hardest part, but life wasn’t the end of things.

She had told Raelle that. And perhaps Raelle’s cosmic spirit had the S constantly reappearing on her hand, their souls forever intertwined, connected by Scylla’s passionate love, even if it wasn’t returned in the end, even if she lost the right to call those strong arms her home, perhaps Raelle’s energy was watching her, urging her to continue. 

Yet she would never be satisfied until she could stare at cold blue eyes and apologize, rip her heart out of her chest and hand it to braided hair and a sharp jawline that she used to love nuzzling, pressing her lips across it as she trailed her way to an ear, a gentle tug on the lobe before whispering a lazy ‘good morning’ followed by stolen kisses before the chime of a bell tore them apart. 

Scylla fell behind in her duties with the Spree, and she couldn’t look at Willa without feeling shame, without feeling a shred of fear, hopelessness, and it felt like a curse to be able to look into eyes that looked so much like her former lover. She couldn’t stay awake in meetings, usually spending her nights staring up at the ceiling, fighting against sleep until her body forced her. She couldn’t eat, except for the few times that Willa forced her to. It became alarmingly clear she was not okay, and she found that she didn’t quite care. 

What point was there? Fighting for her parents brought her Raelle, and the fight in her parent’s honor turned to fighting for a future with Rae, to free the woman she loved and herself from the bounds of conscription, go to a safe place far away from war and hate and spend the rest of their lives together. A simple fantasy that was stolen right from her hands. 

What was the point of fighting when her reason was gone? 

Scylla had half the mind to ask Willa to send her on a suicide mission. It wasn’t something they did, but well, she had heard of whispers of other cells doing it, pulling off a big stunt that would get a bunch of civilians killed and the witch in the process. But then she remembered the horror of her first mission, the mall, and she shuddered at the thought of causing terror like that ever again. She thought about asking to be given back to the military, let them ship her off to the Carribean, or execute her, make an example of a known spree agent. 

She was so lost in her head, unable to fathom being in a world without a bubbly laugh and the sweetest smile you could ever get if you just poked the right way. Or the raspy morning voice, cracking with sleep and a low moan with the stretch of limbs detangling from a needy necro who as much as she tried to play it cool would always find herself curled up against the fixer’s chest, breathing out soft puffs of hot air through an open mouth onto a cool chest, sometimes a little bit of drool, but not too much.

Willa eventually sent Scylla away. She told her to take a week, clear her head, she’d have two agents stationed nearby to keep an eye on her, make sure that she was okay.  _ Make sure that she wasn’t dead.  _ Willa let Scylla choose where she wanted to go, as long as it was reasonable. 

She chose the last safest place she’d ever known, the last one next to Raelle’s arms. 

Labour-in-Pain.

They found her a small beach house right up against the shoreline, it was one room, besides a bathroom, and the shutters by her bed opened up so you could see the beach. The wind would come through ruffling the curtains and cause goosebumps to prickle along Scylla’s exposed skin. It was getting colder as the months went by, so cold that she wished she had an old faded lacrosse hoodie that she’d always seen perched up against Raelle’s bed whenever she rarely went to the fixer’s barracks. 

The waves greedily lapped along the beach. Scylla sat, feet firmly dug into the sand, flexing, feeling the small pieces of crushed minerals and rocks rolling between her toes. She watched the waves roll, she’d been sitting long enough to see the tide at it’s lowest point. Little critters would run out from the sand, she’d watched a small crab jump out and back into a hole upon staring at her with beady little eyes. 

She got to see the high tide too, the water had nipped at her legs, but she didn’t move. Scylla wouldn’t’ve moved, she would’ve let the whole ocean swallow her hole, drown as water replaced the forced air in her lungs, yet with her luck the Goddess would’ve probably ended up blessing her with gills so she could continue living her miserable life. 

A figure sat down next to her, she didn’t care to look, still searching the horizon of the beach, the sun slowly beginning it’s latter part of it’s journey across the sky. She imagined Raelle as the sun, and her as the ocean, forever waiting for the warmth that she bathed in all day to come return to her once more, enter her waters and be one. 

Scylla knew who it was without looking, could feel the lungs of the other person, recognized the breathing pattern. And while any other time she might be curious as to just how this person knew where she was, or even got to her, past the ‘security’ of Willa Collar, Scylla let it slide. She didn’t mind this company, strangely enough she’d found she’d grown fond of the woman next to her, a weirdly maternal figure that contrasted against the one she’d used to find in Willa. 

With a soft voice, rough from disuse, the first words she finally spoke for three days, Scylla finally acknowledged the swirling of questions, and pain in her mind. She let it break free, the vulnerability raw and scary to her, dodger instincts always rising to her surface to remind her she was never truly safe, and yet she found it was easy to ignore them when there wasn’t anything left to run from. 

She couldn’t run from Raelle’s fury, or Willa’s sadness, couldn’t run from an eventual death whether it be natural, or military. Nor could she run from the pity of the woman next to her, a woman who was one of the few in her life privileged with getting to know who Scylla truly was deep down inside. Raelle had only just started to scrape that barrel of Scylla, she regretted not letting Raelle all the way, if she had another chance she would. She would let Raelle see every horrible thing about her, everything hidden, and painful, but more importantly the small good parts she had, the small inner child that sometimes made its way out. 

“I just keep thinking. Why? My parents, Raelle, the whole world could burn and the Goddess would find a way to spare me.” Scylla felt the tears in her eyes, brimming to boil over her pot of cold water, but she didn’t care, let them fall, perhaps eventually she’d run out.

Anacostia remained silent next to Scylla. Letting her presence be enough of an anchor to reality, so that she wouldn’t get swept up in the sunset as she stared out at the horizon. Face fixed with an angry expression, as if she was cursing the God and Goddess, and the world around her, everything around her, herself as well.

“She’s gone but, there’s still a part of me that feels like she isn’t. Feels like they just left her there to die, and she’s in pain, struggling to stay alive, and they just left her, and I don’t want to give up on her like everyone else has.” Scylla sobbed, a shuddering chill wracking through her nerves, chilling all the way up her spine as she finally voiced what she believed to be true. 

“You think she’s alive.” It wasn’t as much a question, it was a statement. Anacostia could feel the certainty rolling off the brunette like the waves that clashed in front of them. “When we told her that you were killed, she wouldn’t believe it. Stole her units entire dose of salva and put it all on her neck to go search for you at some light house. She was so determined that that’s where you’d be.” Anacostia chuckled. 

Scylla felt her heart pang. Raelle could’ve died then too. Was Scylla just destined to cause pain and harm to the woman she loved the most? Even doing nothing would hurt the woman if it was Scylla just sitting or standing or breathing, and yet if Scylla wasn’t breathing she would be hurting her. 

“It’s cause I told her we’d go to the beach after the wedding. I wanted to, take her away, let it just be us, forget about everything.” Scylla admitted, her breaths shaky but calming down. “I knew I was never going to complete my mission, I knew it when she told me she was with me, no matter what or who I was. I was gonna tell her everything at the beach, but, I didn’t have time.” Scylla sighed and raised her head up, eyes scanning the clouds as though perhaps they would reveal that Raelle wasn’t truly dead, that her heart wasn’t making things up.

They stayed quiet again, and carefully, testing the waters Scylla laid her head to rest against Anacostia, feeling the woman still at her touch, until a careful arm moved her so her head could rest in her lap, a strong arm running down the length of her own. 

Anacostia was good at that, making someone feel safe, motivated, supported. It was probably what made her such a good drill sergeant. She knew how to handle young girls, make them strong and confident in themselves. Feel their own power and trust it, use it to its full capabilities. 

The older witch looked down at the mess and heap of brown hair strewn about her lap, the shaky raise of a stomach as it filled with oxygen, holding onto it tightly for a moment before expelling its contents. Continuing the game again and again. Anacostia smiled sadly, realizing Scylla was trying to do a breathing exercise, something to get herself under control. She traced a small protective symbol against the young witch, knowing the necro would’ve been able to detect it, but if she minded she didn’t say anything about it.

“There weren’t any bodies.” Anacostia murmured. 

Scylla stopped breathing. No bodies meant it wasn’t certain, no bodies meant empty caskets which meant that, that, that-

“The report details an explosion, with Collar and Bellweather in the epicenter, they sent a scouting party but there weren’t any bodies, just trails of fungi.” 

The speed at which Scylla rose from her position was faster than probably light itself. Anacostia’s eyes widened and Scylla put her hands in her hair, getting on her knees to look at the older witch, eyes blown wide recounting a basic necro class from her first year, right after they’d fished out all the potential new necros from basic. 

“Fungi. A trail of fungi?” Scylla asked, staring Anacostia down with red rimmed eyes that had a gentle spark in them, incredibly dull but there was something about it that Anacostia could not bring herself to ignore. 

“Yes-”

“I need the file.” Scylla decided, standing up from her position on the ground, ignoring the protest and ache of her legs, and the especially painful static that shot through them, they'd fallen asleep, damn useless things.

Anacostia looked at Scylla like she’d grown a second head. Which to be fair made reasonable sense to the necro. A spree agent asking for a file from a top secret mission in the tarim basin? Not something she in her right mind should ever have thought of thinking about, but then again, Scylla was most certainly not in her right mind, and well she would never be in that state until Raelle was alive and standing right next to her.

“I can’t just sneak out a file Ramshorn-”

“If it’s what I think it is, did, did she ever get caught in the necro basement looking for me.” Scylla stammered, Anacostia looked confused and Scylla felt her spark growing bright. “Dammit, think! Did she!?” 

Anacostia remembered a slight moment, Izadora coming to her, letting her know one of her cadets was found snooping around some dangerous wall thing that well to be fair she didn’t know much about but it certainly seemed important to her colleague. 

Izadora had been concerned, told Ana that she kept to the story, Scylla was dead, but warned the drill sergeant to keep a close eye on her. That girl’s grief would be her undoing and it would be such a waste of talent and potential for a witch like that to fall so young. 

“Yes, some wall-” Anacostia stopped short at the relief on Scylla’s face. Tears falling happily from her face as everything connected in her head. 

“She’s alive.” 

“Scylla.” Anacostia tried. She couldn’t handle another round of a girl yelling in her face that the love of her life was actually alive and she was wrong even though everything was for their own good, to move on and focus where they need to focus. “I know you loved her, but this not a healthy road to go down, if we stick to the plan we could, you could honor her memory instead of crumbling-”

“Raelle Collar is alive. Call me crazy, don’t believe me I don’t care. I know she’s alive and I would search the entire world just to have a glimpse of her again. This is necro work, I need the file.”

Anacostia ran a tired hand down her face. Remembering again the fixer yelling at her with the same conviction, something in the woman’s gut telling her that the girl she loved most was still on the earth, how she knew it so fiercely and without any evidence. Just how even a small part of Scylla in defeat and grief had to know somewhere deep down inside that the woman was okay, that she was still breathing. 

She’d been on the wrong side the last time. At least this way, she could make sure that the kid in front of her didn’t hurt herself, Scylla didn’t have a unit that knew her like the back of their hands. Didn’t have anyone willing to look after her, even her own leader sent her away because she didn’t know what to do with her. Scylla only ever had Raelle looking for her, caring for her, even when Scylla hurt her the fixer was still putting her first. Anacostia would be the only one there, actively protecting the necro, Raelle would want it.

“Fine. If I give you the file, you’re going to eat, take a long bath, and have a long night of sleep before we get started.” Anacostia lamented, and Scylla’s eyes roared to life, back to that sassy air that always surrounded her, fire dancing against the waves in her ocean. 

“We?” Scylla asked, raising her brow. 

“Told that girl to come back so she could age me further, I gotta yell at her for not obeying my orders, again.” 

That night Scylla allowed Anacostia to walk her back into the one room beach house. She yelled at the necro to take a long shower, that Anacostia would take care of everything else for her. 

Scylla stood in the bathroom, testing the burning heat of the water as it pelted the palm of her hand. She hissed out but pushed forward, sighing as the water rained down on her exposed back. Each hit working to soothe aching and tired muscles that became stiff with disuse for the long days Scylla spent not moving, only watching the world shift around her in her grief.

She knew Raelle had to be alive, it was the smallest feeling of truth in her heart, just a feeling that felt more right than what others would believe the truth to be. Yet she knew, despite any churning doubt in her stomach, if their positions were reversed, Raelle would fight to find her. And it seemed that once upon a time their roles were most certainly reversed, and Raelle defied all orders and logic, pushing forward with the belief that Scylla was alive. 

It was only fair of her to return the same convictions, and it hurt to know that the entire world seemed to give up on the fixer with a drawl that came out early in the morning and late at night with gasps of breath. Scylla’s mission was Raelle, it had always been Raelle, she would bring her home. 

Scylla sighed out as she worked the conditioner into her hair, massaging her scalp gently before turning to apply a lavender scented body wash. The smell attacked her nose, working it’s calming properties, she could imagine the personified molecules probably gaping at the anxiety it must combat within Scylla. She wouldn’t blame them if they decided to just run away and find some less fucked up mind to calm. 

She was so trapped in her mind, working the shower on autopilot that it was only until she heard a gentle knock on the door that Scylla realized the water had gone icy cold. She hissed out against the sharpness of the water hitting her face, forcing her to be alert, making chilled wet hairs stand. 

Quickly, Scylla jumped out, turning the knob to off and grabbed her towel, she pulled it close against herself, shivering into the fibers. “I’m alive.” Scylla stated out, she pretended not to notice the sigh of, relief? That Anacostia let out from the other side of the door. 

“I set aside some clean clothes for you on the bed.” Anacostia yelled out. “I’ll be outside when you need me.” 

She waited for the sound of the door to close before stepping out, the steam escaping the room as she walked, pulling the warmth of the towel closer while approaching the edge of her bed. When she saw what was laid out Scylla stopped, a hitch in her breath as she eyed the garment. 

It was a faded thing, baby blue that was a little worn, a tiny hole in the front pocket. Scylla felt the tears brimming at her eyes as she looked at the old logo, a cougar with its teeth bared and claws making it look like it was tearing part of the shirt away to reveal the word ‘lacrosse’ in the front. 

She felt the soft material in her hands, turning it around where in blocky print the name “ _ Collar”  _ with white letters was proudly fading away. Scylla tried not to let that image affect her, words fading away like Raelle fading away from the world, she steeled herself. 

__ _ No, no she’s not dead. She’s alive I know it. _

Carefully, Scylla raised the hoodie to her nose, taking in a deep breath, she gasped as the scent of Raelle hit her strongly. A bit of faded sweat, the tiniest smell of her barracks, even the plain body wash from the fort resided on the material. She only cried when she smelled the sweet shampoo that Raelle used, it was something Scylla had snuck her fixer when the girl complained her hair always came out fuzzy in the barrack’s showers. 

Scylla had laughed at her, telling her that it was all on purpose to further break down the cadets. Raelle had scoffed and rolled her eyes, moving Scylla into her lap to smell the necro’s hair, moaning against her ear as the smell of ‘ocean breeze’ paraded her senses.

_ “Unfair, wanna smell as good as you.” Raelle mumbled, running her hands down Scylla’s shirt before slipping her hands underneath to firmly hold hips against her. _

__ _ “I’ll sneak ya some, but it’ll cost you private.” Scylla smirked, until her smirk turned into parted lips gasping for breath as a nose traveled between the planes of her breasts, following the trail of wet kisses and teeth nipping at her skin. Painting her with dark marks, leaving her a writhing mess that only Raelle knew how to clean up. _

__ _ She gave Raelle her shampoo in the morning.  _

Scylla pulled her arms through the hoodie, head popping out at the top. The hoodie felt like a giant hug, warmth parading her despite the night chill and ocean breeze entering through the shutters. It was like Raelle was all around her, holding her tightly. 

She finished dressing herself, a pair of sleep sweats and once fully covered, no longer feeling the effects of a shower gone on too long Scylla opened the door, letting Anacostia back in. 

The woman looked at Scylla carefully, trying to gauge what version of necro she was getting after the gift she managed to smuggle out. Nodding to herself she sat Scylla down, going to the kitchen and getting the dinner she cooked for her, reheating it quickly so that she could eat. 

Scylla felt better. Raelle’s smell, warmth, and filling food hitting her all at once. It was then that she realized how tired she truly was, her head felt heavy, barely supported by her neck, back still aching despite the bullets of hard hot water hitting against it. 

“There’s one more thing, they were going to throw it out but, figured it might comfort you.” Scylla watched as Anacostia left and came back, an old quilt in her hand. 

Scylla finally broke, she cried as she felt the threads against her face, Even stronger smell of Raelle hitting her. It became too much, so close to the real thing she wanted, but she wouldn’t be able to find full comfort until there were arms holding her, and a lazy voice tired from training whispering in her ear with promises of love, want, desire, a future. 

“Thank you.” Scylla cried, and Anacostia hugged her tight, holding her close once again. If you were to tell her perhaps just a month ago that she’d be holding the very girl she’d be required to torture for months in her arms, breaking down over one of her own cadets Anacostia would’ve called you a madman, yet here she was. 

“Rest up Ramshorn. I’ll be back tomorrow with the file.” 

Anacostia left, and Scylla found the peace of being alone, surrounded by things owned by Raelle was comforting and heartbreaking all at once. She dragged herself to bed, remembering her promise to Anacostia to take care of herself, she had to have a rested mind, a strong body if she was going to bring her girl back. 

She laid in bed, the sound of waves crashing against the shore, her shutters slightly banging against the wall with the breeze, wrapped up in an old quilt, resting her head on a pillow she pulled up close to herself to mimic a body, letting herself pretend for just that night that Raelle was next to her, holding her, surrounding her with her warmth once more. 

Scylla pretended the pillow was Raelle’s chest, nuzzling her head into it’s softness as though perhaps it was exposed skin that she used to breathe hot puffs of breath, until she slowly found her eyes shutting, except not before she traced an S into her palm, really focusing into the feel of the power, of her work. 

A smile graced her face when she finally felt the incantation go through, could feel her work connecting, weakly because she was drained, but connecting nonetheless somewhere far away, and for a brief moment she could feel emotions that weren’t her own. A determination, a bit of fear, and then an undeniable feeling of love, a love that only one Raelle Collar could ever express. 

Raelle was alive, and she had an S showing on her palm right now. 

Somewhere, far away, deep in a desert Raelle felt her mind quiet, the first S showing up on her hand since she left Fort Salem and was deployed. She stopped trudging through the sands, staring at the mark.  _ Scylla’s okay. She’s alive.  _ Raelle found she could push herself a little harder that day trudging in the sands, even if Scylla was in a prison, just knowing that she was still okay enough to send her little message, saying hi from somewhere, more than likely in pain. It was all she needed to keep going. 

_ “I just always want to be able to say hi.”  _

“Hey Scyl.” Raelle whispered, a tear leaving her eye before she pressed a gentle kiss to the mark, feeling a longing that was like her own and yet not her emotion all at once. 

_ I’ll survive this, for you.  _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would say I'm sorry but this is what happens when a group chat wakes you up to angst at 9 a.m. so... 
> 
> Lil necro murder nugget is very not okay, but with her mind clearing up a bit she can actually focus and realize that she's still connected to Raelle, can still feel her somewhere deep down if she concentrates.... 
> 
> Did you cry? Cause I cried.
> 
> <3

**Author's Note:**

> So Anacostia's plan is something I spent prolly a month writing up in my drafts so i'm excited to kinda unfurl it. Might not make sense when S2 airs (We'll see what happens) but in my limited knowledge in legislature I felt like this could possibly work, will it? Who knows, well I guess I know, and I've totally already decided if it does or not, we'll just have to keep reading and for me to keep writing.
> 
> Also quick quick note, this may jump around a bit as far as time... not quite sure yet if it will or not, but I'll try to not do it so often, I'll note on the chapter if it does or not!


End file.
